


sweet like sugar (tell me what i wanna hear)

by orphan_account



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Dirty Talk, F/F, Genderbending, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shower Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-18
Updated: 2015-05-18
Packaged: 2018-03-31 02:46:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3961561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>bokuto runs with scissors, so to speak, frequently and enthusiastically. akaashi walks with the scissor guards in her pocket.</p>
            </blockquote>





	sweet like sugar (tell me what i wanna hear)

**Author's Note:**

> ((SO MANY THANK-YOU CARDS TO THE WHITTLEBAE because how else will i have kept this lapslock version without you. how do you do it. u amaze me, u da best))
> 
> aj said 'femslash bokuaka in the shower' like two weeks ago and now. look what happened. title taken from the rihanna song "sell me candy", because i am now the kind of person who unironically titles pwps after rihanna songs

akaashi doesn’t even turn around when bokuto-chan steps into the shower with her. “move over, please,” she whines, and akaashi does--she bumps her hips, her feet against bokuto’s as she inches away to make room. bokuto closes the stall curtain and grins--endearing and familiar, and entirely naked.

“it’s saturday,” she says instead. “we could have taken separate showers.” she watches the shower slowly plaster bokuto’s hair to her head. water runs down her neck as she closes her eyes and turns her face toward the spray. 

not for the first time, akaashi realizes how pretty her girlfriend is. “yeah,” she finally replies, hair drenched. bokuto always looks different with her hair down. “but then i wouldn’t get to do this.” akaashi lets her wrap her arms around her waist and pull her close, the water running in warm streams down her back. “don’t worry, i brought my own towel.” 

akaashi kisses her to shut her up. it frequently happens--she tries not to do it in public, because bokuto-chan turns incandescent--but in the privacy of their own home, in their shower that seems almost crowded, she takes pleasure in it. akaashi drags it out, body suffused with the shower heat and the steady water pressure against her back. bokuto is always vocal. 

their bathroom mirror is probably clouding over with steam. akaashi lets bokuto’s quiet whines, breaths snatched between kisses, get to her head. the shower blends together softer noises: bokuto is never _quiet_ , but it’s something like it. akaashi is so close to bokuto she bumps noses, listens to her pant. out of rare impulse, she licks at the water droplets on her chin, on the soft skin above her breasts.

it’s a rare thing when akaashi _takes_. she always permits: bokuto runs with scissors, so to speak, frequently and enthusiastically. akaashi walks with the scissor guards in her pocket. she rarely wants things as obviously as bokuto does--just attaches a leash to it and names it, keeps it for a rainy day. she crowds bokuto away from the shower spray and against cool tile, bokuto’s face still red. 

akaashi’s girlfriend is lovely when she submits--and lets her take what she wants. “it’s kinda cold.” bokuto wiggles her hips away from the tile and frowns exaggeratedly. her eyes look larger when her features don’t compete with her outrageous hair. akaashi detaches the showerhead from its wall fixture and turns its temperature dial, washes the tile briefly and lets her settle back. “that’s nice.”

bokuto is made up of curves. akaashi could draw her--if she could draw, which she absolutely, utterly can’t--but she looks at ease wherever she goes. athleticism combined with a natural grace that akaashi always likes to touch, to tease. the showerhead still runs in her hands as bokuto cocks one hip up, opposite knee folding slightly. “like whatcha see?”

akaashi lets the showerhead run over her stomach for that, a brief streak of hot water across sensitive skin that makes bokuto screech a little. “take it back, i take it back--” and akaashi dials the water temperature back. “yes. okay. sorry.”

“you’re really not,” she replies, but it’s okay. it was almost kind of funny. bokuto opens up her arms and akaashi reattaches the showerhead. kissing her girlfriend is the opposite of calm: she needs to remember how to breathe before bokuto robs her of oxygen, every time. “also, good morning.” it’s kind of mean to say it and not let bokuto answer--but she’s busy, tongue twirling a soft, lazy circle around akaashi’s that means the same thing, in the end.

bokuto likes yanking at akaashi’s various threads--of temper, poking at her personality quirks with an almost studied curiosity. it’s how she learns about akaashi’s thing for her legs, and her hands, and how bokuto leaves soft bites on her lower lip because she likes the extra sensation. her skin buzzes, as if an electric current was left switched on somewhere--and it very nearly crackles where bokuto touches her, the pads of her fingertips pressing against her waist, her back.

“feels good,” bokuto mumbles, and she’s blushing again. “i could kiss you here until we turned into wrinkles.”

akaashi leaves gentle scratches against the sensitive skin of her thighs in answer. bokuto’s head thunks against the stall. “that’s not fair,” she says breathlessly, and opens her legs wider. “do that again.” akaashi takes care to drag her nails, with even pressure, and rakes her long fingers up bokuto’s legs with a smile. they leave pink lines down her skin that akaashi can trace, with a gentler touch, and bokuto will damage her head if she keeps hitting it against the wall. 

“careful.” bokuto lifts up her hips and cants them forward, puts her hands on akaashi’s shoulders and tugs her up for a kiss. she is not listening--so akaashi opens her mouth and just breathes, exhale to bokuto’s inhale. presses bokuto’s head to the wall and makes sure she doesn’t hurt herself, lips still curving into a smile when bokuto kisses back, eager and wet. 

the shower really does blend together sounds. bokuto’s appreciative little _ah_ noises are different--akaashi tilts her head away and bites, soft, against bokuto’s jaw. it makes her louder. clearer.

akaashi’s want uncurls from the pit of her stomach. bokuto’s hands slip down from her waist and between her legs, eyes closed and mouth still seeking akaashi’s. her fingers come away slippery. akaashi’s fingers shake when she strokes across bokuto’s breasts, rubs her thumbs across her nipples. bokuto knows her too well--akaashi twists bokuto’s nipples in retaliation when she leaves butterfly strokes between her folds, fingertips just barely touching.

bokuto’s knees bow when akaashi pulls at her nipples again, sucks one into her mouth. “akaashi,” she pants, and it means _give me more, i can take it_. “fuck, give me--fingers, come on, please, touch me--”

bokuto’s natural grace means that even with her legs shaking, she can still stay upright. her hands are clumsy between akaashi’s legs, but still determined--her touches press harder against her skin, fingertips hooking up and barely missing her clitoris. bokuto hisses when akaashi licks broad stripes underneath her breasts, drags her tongue down her abdomen. “fuck, fuck, akaashi, give it to me.”

but it’s saturday, and akaashi has all the time in the world. her girlfriend is getting wet under her hands and their showerhead still has decent pressure. “describe to me what you want.” her words are heavy on her tongue as they leave, but bokuto’s flush reddens deeper when she registers akaashi’s voice.

“i want--” bokuto’s words stumble over each other, “i want you to _please_ touch me.” akaashi hums, strokes at her breasts, flicks at her nipples with a practiced ease. “stop teasing, fuck, just.” akaashi finally, _finally_ trails her hands down toward her hips, leaves gentle scratches in her wake.

“but i am touching you,” she points out, and doesn’t bother hiding her smile when bokuto huffs a sigh. “where should i touch you, then?” the hard planes of her stomach tense when akaashi drops down to her knees and kisses up her legs. she settles her hands, palms open and broad on bokuto’s hips above her head, anchors her down against the tile. bokuto is practically burning under her touch. “yes, yes, please, put your mouth on me, please.”

akaashi very nearly puts her mouth where bokuto would like. she grins into the juncture of hip and leg, forehead leaning against bokuto’s thigh as her girlfriend shakes with frustration. “tongue, i want your tongue on my pussy, _akaashi--_ ”

she settles the flat of her tongue there and waits for bokuto to grind down impatiently--or to try, straining against akaashi’s grip on her waist. “lick me open, please,” and she promptly does. bokuto is so wet they’re lucky they’re in a shower. “again, again,” she pants, and her hands come down to brace against akaashi’s shoulders. “ _fuck_ , keep doing it, please, lick me open with your tongue, it feels so good--” and akaashi obliges with lengthy, broad strokes. “can i, akaashi, your hands, please, i wanna come so bad, akaashi, this isn’t _fair_.” akaashi tongues up against the hood of her clit and she shakes with pleasure, arches her back to dig her hips down against her mouth. “i could make you come, akaashi, can’t just be me having so much fun, _oh shit_. fuck my pussy with your hands, akaashi, i want--give me your fingers, i need you, i need you.”

bokuto is always so earnest. 

akaashi wants to make her come. she throbs, between her own legs, and is probably as wet as bokuto herself. akaashi is drowning, in bokuto’s scent and her voice, can barely keep her head above water. she can’t deny bokuto what she wants--not when she asks for it so nicely--and fits two slim fingers into bokuto, listens to her shout, “yes, _just like that_.” bokuto digs her fingers into akaashi’s shoulder. 

bokuto’s orgasms build and plateau--akaashi is never as impatient with her climaxes as bokuto is, somehow--and she cries out so loudly she’s sure the neighbors know exactly what they’re doing. akaashi curls her fingers in bokuto gently, pads of her fingers pressing against soft flesh and a delicate ridge. “i’m gonna come, just like this, akaashi, akaashi,” bokuto pants and shakes above her head, hands curled into fists against cold tile.

akaashi will get bokuto out of the shower and probably back into bed, where she can definitely make her come a second time. maybe a third. bokuto’s voice might crack at the end of that, and she’ll flap her hands furiously at people who would ask if she was okay. bokuto might do that thing that akaashi likes--if she requests, she would--and fuck her in lazy rhythm until akaashi pins bokuto down to the bed with her weight, shifts her hips above bokuto’s and comes, shaking. they might do that for hours. akaashi slides in a third finger and bokuto clenches, fucks herself down on her hands. 

she hisses out her exhale when akaashi lines up her fingers and twists, wrist flicking easily. bokuto trembles under akaashi’s hands, left hand pinching her hood and squeezing a gentle rhythm that makes her legs shake in response. akaashi builds up her orgasm with patience, waits for it to crest and bokuto to scream, knees practically giving out when she comes at last. 

akaashi presses a fond kiss on her stomach as bokuto clamps down on her fingers. she can feel her pulse from the inside out--her jaw aches, her knees hurt--but bokuto doesn’t let her go. it’s like akaashi pulls all the parts of her together at once just to scatter her, with deft hands and a touch of patience. caught between blind pleasure and consciousness, bokuto’s hips grind down in liquid circles. she looks like she’ll snap in half. akaashi admires the view, the taste of her still in her mouth. 

bokuto pants when it’s over, flushed from head to chest, and watches akaashi slowly stand up to wash her hands in the cooling spray. “thanks, babe,” she giggles, slowly coming back to earth. “think we used up all the water?”

“i was done when you came in,” akaashi admits quietly, and sucks thoughtfully at her clean fingers. bokuto’s irregular breath catches in her throat as she pushes herself off the wall and toward akaashi’s ready hold. “let’s get you back to bed,” she suggests, and smiles at the gleam in bokuto’s eyes.

“bed, huh?” bokuto presses herself close to akaashi’s side while she shuts off the water, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around herself. “i’m not that tired out, vice captain.” she puts her hand over akaashi’s, settled at her waist, and offers her a towel. “round two’s on me.”

**Author's Note:**

> \- what kind of water heater do they have that lets them do this  
> \- akaashi keiji's knees are made of steel


End file.
